


Always

by Zen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen/pseuds/Zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>first time, motel room, thunderstorm, tiny little bit o'schmoop</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written April 2007.
> 
> Notes: Without renenet this never would have happened. She set the scene, and beta'd for me.

renenet: motel room  
renenet: middle of everywhere  
renenet: can't leave because there's huuuuuuuuuuuuge thunderstorm  
renenet: and it's pointless to risk their necks and the Impala driving in that  
renenet: so they are stuck in the room  
renenet: latest job is over  
renenet: they can't move on yet  
renenet: and the cable goes out  
renenet: so now they're getting bored and antsy  
renenet: bored and antsy leads to sniping leads to wrestling leads to messing around  
renenet: with the first couple bits happening before we tune in  
renenet: OR  
renenet: bored and antsy leads to drinking leads to messing around  
renenet: writers' choice  
renenet: you can just skip to the hot sex

(So that’s the scene, Dean and Sam are sitting side by side in the same bed, backs against the headboard, and the power is out)

“Fucking give it,” Dean takes the bottle of Jack from Sam’s hand, takes another swig as lightning flashes bright in the room.

“This kinda sucks,” Sam whines, lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Dean singsongs at him, watching the candles flicker patterns on the stucco ceiling.

Sam grabs the bottle out of his hand, drinks some more, and Dean finds himself staring at the bob of Sam’s adam’s apple. He shakes his head, shoves at Sam’s shoulder with as much power as his muscles have left after putting away about half a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Why ya gotta be such a bitch, Sammy?”

“Jerk,” Sam picks his head up to poke at Dean’s shoulder.

“Yer the bitch,” Sam laughs, “My bitch.”

Dean grabs the bottle back, grumbling, “Fuck you. Dean Winchester is nobody’s bitch!”

Sam has the nerve to laugh at him again, and this time when he shoves Dean there’s a lot more force to it. Dean falls sideways, but manages to set the bottle on the table next to the bed instead of spilling it. He pulls himself up and kicks Sam in the shin, just to distract Sam for the body slam Dean follows up with.

“Oooomph.” He knocks the wind out of Sam, but only for a second.

Laughing like a drunken fool, Sam reaches up and digs his fingers into Dean’s armpit, hard, making Dean jump in spite of himself. That’s all it takes for a full on wrestling match to explode all over the bed. Both of them laughing so hard that they’re gasping for air, arms and legs flying, kicking, and tangling. It’s the release they’ve needed for months; months filled with loss and fear and death and yellow eyed demons. Months of fighting each other at every turn and hanging on to each other so tight that even death couldn’t part them, usually at the same time. Months of them learning what it is to be brothers again, and what it means to be Winchesters now. Too many months of too much shit, but now they’re safe, drunk, and laughing like they haven’t done in too many years.

Until Dean suddenly stops laughing, freezes as his thigh brushes up against Sam’s unmistakable hard on. The room is filled with the sounds of rain pounding on the cheap motel roof, and their heavy breathing, their eyes locked on each other. Alcohol definitely plays a factor in Dean’s decision. His spur of the moment, go with the flow, and keep the upper hand with Sammy decision.

“Who’s the bitch now?” he chuckles, and grinds his hips down against Sam’s.

“Auuurrghhh, fuck, Dean,” Sam’s eyes shut tight, his head twisting to the side as he pants, and his hips buck up under Dean.

The deep rumble of Sam’s moan goes straight to Dean’s dick, and before he can think about it, he’s pouncing on his little brother.

“This is so fucked up, Sammy,” He growls.

“Don’t care,” Sam gasps as Dean straddles Sam and starts rocking against him. “Been so long, Dean.”

Sam’s strong hands are clutching at Dean’s back, pulling his t-shirt up and off, sounding wild and lost and hungry and so many other things that Dean has never heard in Sam’s voice.

“Please, Dean,” Sam pushes his face into Dean’s neck, “Been so long, alone for so long, need this so bad.”

It should sober him, should make Dean snap out of this drunk and horny haze and stop, but it doesn’t, not one bit. It makes him pull Sam’s shirt off, pull him closer, makes him hiss and shudder when they're skin on skin. Somewhere, way in the back of his head, there is a little voice telling Dean that this is so fucked up, over and over again. So fucked up, so fucked up, so fucked-

“Need so bad, Dean, need you so bad,” Sam is licking and biting Dean’s neck and shoulders between words. “You’re all I’ve got, need you so bad.”

And the little voice fades away, silenced by Sam’s need, by Dean’s need to give Sam anything he needs, everything he needs, no matter what. It’s easy then, easy to make this just one more thing that Dean gives, one more thing that’s fucked up about their lives, one more thing that sets them apart from everyone else, one more thing that binds them together.

“Easy, Sammy,” He pets Sam’s hair, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

He feels Sam smile against his neck, feels Sam’s hands slow their frantic pace across his back, and everything slows down for a moment. Dean runs his hand down Sam’s side, pets over his ribs and Sam’s head falls back on the pillow, another hungry moan filling Dean’s ears. Sam’s hands are on Dean’s jeans, popping the button and pulling down the zipper, and the next thing Dean knows he’s flat on his back, Sam looming over him. Sam’s face is splotchy red, his smile a bit wild as he pulls off Dean’s jeans and boxers all at once, and then quickly shucks his own.

Some things you just can’t think about too much, Dean tells himself, like why it’s the hottest thing ever to have Sam stretch out on top of him, settle between Dean’s legs like they were made to fit each other. No thinking at all as their dicks fit against each other, hard and hot and so good it makes them both gasp and rock against each other, finding an easy rhythm.

“Ah, fuck yes, Dean, god,” Sam groans, Dean’s eyes opening at the sound when he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them.

Like a live wire is connecting them, he feels his whole body come alive under Sam. Dean hooks his legs over Sam’s, rolls his hips up harder and higher, needing more. Sam’s hair is sticking to his forehead, and Dean reaches up to brush it out of Sam’s eyes without thinking. Sam’s eyes are dark, heavy lidded, his face flushed with lust and need. He leans down, both his hands holding Dean’s head still, as Sam crosses the last line, and kisses Dean, wet and deep. Dean’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he feels Sam’s kiss start on his lips, but then Sam’s whole body rolls with it, like a wave starting at their mouths and rolling all the way down to their feet. Somehow, Dean already knew what Sam would taste like, and the familiarity makes it easy for him to kiss back, sucking Sam’s tongue in rhythm with their hips. His hands are clutching Sam’s shoulders, sliding across the expanse of muscles that flex and strain under his fingers. Dean hears himself moaning, the storm pounding on the roof, bed springs squeaking, and his head spins. He pulls his mouth from Sam’s, gasping for air.

“Jesus,” Dean moans as Sam’s mouth bites across his jaw. “Fuck, yeah, harder.”

Sam’s teeth sink into his flesh, and he feels Sam’s growl vibrate across his skin, settling into his bones. Sparks, Dean swears he sees sparks, but then realizes he’s closed his eyes again.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Sam fucking purrs next to Dean’s ear, one arm braced on the bed next to Dean’s head, his other hand sliding down between them. Sam wraps his hand around both their dicks, fumbles for a moment, but then it’s perfect, and too much and not enough, and Dean is going to lose his mind from it all.

He bucks into Sam’s hand, against Sam’s slick, hot, hard, dick, and thunder rattles the windows. His hands slide down Sam’s back, down, down, down because Sam’s back seems to go on forever, and then he’s got a firm grip on Sam’s ass. Dean holds his breath for a second, waiting for lightning to strike him down. Sam moans deep in chest, but stops moving, looking down at Dean, worry, lust, humor, and love mixing up all over his face.

“Dean?” Sam asks, and Dean doesn’t get struck by lightning, so he smiles and something between a laugh and moan comes out of his mouth.

He’s having sex with his brother, and the world isn’t coming to an end, hell isn’t opening wide and sucking them down, and that just somehow makes it all okay somewhere deep down inside him. As long as there isn’t some huge cosmic price for this, Dean decides he doesn’t give a shit about the rest. When Sam smiles back, Dean really doesn’t care if this is wrong, couldn’t give a shit when Sam leans down and kisses him slow and sweet, nuzzles his rough cheek against Dean’s and starts to slowly rub his thumb over the tips of their dicks, mixing precum all over them.

Dean slides one hand off Sam’s ass, and into the hot, sweaty space between them. His hand, Sam’s hand, his Dick, Sam’s dick... they all blur into one.

“God yes, perfect, Dean, so perfect,” Sam croons, his breath hot on Dean’s face. “Need this, need this so bad.”

Even now, half drunk, doing the craziest thing he’s ever done in his life, lust racing through him, even now, Dean finds himself saying, “S’okay, Sammy, I got you, I’m here, right here.”

Sam surprises Dean, moves fast and grabs Dean’s wrist, pulls their hands off their dicks and over Dean’s head. Sam’s other hand reaches down, his full weight pinning Dean, grabbing the hand off his ass and holding both of Dean’s hands over his head on the pillow. Leaning up on his elbows, Sam holds Dean down and humps against him, and Dean’s blood rushes in his ears. Sam’s looking at him, eyes fierce, bright.

“Need you.” Sam’s voice is thick, strained.

“Got me.” Dean tells him without hesitation. “You’re mine.”

“Got you,” Sam leans down and kisses him quick, then says, “You’re mine.”

“All yours.”

“Like this?” Sam rolls his hips harder against Dean. “Not just this once. From now on.”

“God yes,” Dean jerks under Sam, knowing he’d never be able to feel like this and _not_ do it again, knowing he needs it as much as Sam, because the closer they are, the stronger they are.

“Save me?” Sam’s voice hitches, and he shoves his face into Dean’s neck, lets go of Dean’s wrists to slide his hands under Dean’s shoulders, holding on tight.

“Always,” Dean vows, wrapping his arms around Sam.

Sam comes, shaking and moaning into Dean’s neck, and Dean only a few heartbeats behind him.

The End


End file.
